


Blood Song

by Helrose



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23167597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helrose/pseuds/Helrose
Summary: After falling into a trap, MC (called Mchara) finds themself at the mercy of vampires. Unable to return home and determined to make the best of their new life, Mchara learns more about the brothers and might even fall in love, even if it is forbidden.Vampire AU.
Relationships: Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Everyone, Main Character/Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Blood Song

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Vampire AU. I’m calling MC “Mchara” because why not. Gender Neutral. First fic for Obey Me, so it’s gonna be rough.

Impulsiveness was one of Mchara’s worst traits.

It was close to midnight, after a sleepless few hours in bed, when they had enough of tossing and turning. The moon outside was full, casting its silver-white light through the open window onto the faded green bedspread.

Mchara touched their feet to the cold surface of the floorboard. The wood groaned under their weight as they stood straight and stretched. They sighed, slapping their cheeks to chase away their grogginess. The house was silent—Mchara lived alone with the occasional stray cat coming in for a night’s sleep and a bowl of milk if there was any to be had. Tonight, there were no cats to find comfort in.

Slipping on a pair of worn shoes, Mchara fumbled in the dark for a cloak. It wasn’t yet winter here in Rose Village, a small community known for both an abundance of poor farmers and the aforementioned crimson-petaled flower which grew like weeds within its border, but it was still chilly. Mchara was more sensitive to the cold than others. That or the old house was always too drafty. It always needed repairs. Unfortunately, as piss-poor and black-thumbed as one could get in the gardens, Mchara could barely afford to breathe.

Tossing the hood of the cloak over their messy mid-length hair, Mchara strode through the sitting room—which was merely one and the same with the kitchen, the wobbly dining table and all—but stopped midway before reaching the door. Something didn’t feel right about tonight. It was a strange thing to think. Mchara wasn’t one to believe in superstitious notions—well, for the most part, at least.

Mchara moved forward and reached out for the latch. The door creaked open, an ugly sound in the midst of once peaceful silence. Grimacing at the sound, Mchara stepped out and closed the door behind themselves and then locked it with the key. The key dangled on a dark red, velvety smooth ribbon which Mchara then tossed around their neck like a piece of jewelry for safe keeping. The ribbon belonged to their mother but Mchara wasn’t sure why their mother had such a fine thing in the first place. Mchara’s father wasn’t one to buy frivolity for frivolity’s sake even if he did love his wife.

Wearing only a plain nightshirt with thin black pants under the cloak was already feeling like a mistake and Mchara’s walk hadn’t even progressed past the house yet. The air was crisp and clear, tantalizing to the senses. Mchara kept their gait slow and steady.

The village was sleeping. The houses were dark and not a soul was outside during this time of night. Even the animals were out of sight. Stones skidded across the path from Mchara’s feet. It was best to not linger lest they be suspected of being a robber or a fabled night stalker.

It wasn’t long until the trees were visible. Mchara lived close to the edge of the Stygian Forest, also known to many as the Forbidden Woods. The trees were green year round—so deep was their color, they looked black. It was said that the entire forest was cursed or harbored flesh eating monsters. Mchara didn’t know whether the stories were true or not, but they’d known people, the hunters who never came back.

Mchara turned away. It wasn’t wise to test fate by lingering near a cursed place in the middle of the night. Looking up at the sky, they noticed a misty dark cloud drifting across the moon. It was time to go home.

But Mchara didn’t go. Instead, against reason, perhaps mortal curiosity being too much to resist, Mchara took one step and then another towards the forest. What could go wrong? As long as they went in a straight line and not too far, they’d be perfectly fine.

The trees and surrounding foliage were denser than what Mchara had originally thought. It was dark, even the bright light of the moon was hindered within the forest. Less brave than before, Mchara’s steps became smaller and less sure. Situational braveness made a fool of many. Mchara would have blushed at their rashness, had not the blood already drained from their face.

A few minutes later, Mchara saw a clearing just ahead but no longer felt the need to continue on this little adventure. A chill slithered up Mchara’s spine up to the crown of their head when a voice sang out into the night. Ambiguous, beautiful, so close and yet so far away it sounded. Mchara stood in a daze, eyes staring into nothing. They had to follow the voice, to find the singer. Nothing in that moment mattered more. Mchara couldn’t resist even if they wanted to.

Mchara stepped into the clearing and just as suddenly as that heavenly singing started, it had stopped, breaking the spell. Shaking their head, Mchara blinked. They looked around, wide eyed. What was that? Suddenly, the stories didn’t seem so fabled after all.

Behind them, something moved in the trees. Leaves rustled, branches broke underfoot. Mchara gasped, stepping back. The ground fell beneath their feet and swallowed them, taking debris of dirt and leaves in their wake.

Mchara was still screaming when they hit the bottom of the pit with a painful thud. They groaned. Everything hurt, especially the back of their head—it bounced off a rock on the way down, too bad it hadn’t knocked any sense into them. Mchara tested their limbs. Nothing felt broken. That was good, at least. They looked up seeing the starless sky above them, the moon was now completely overshadowed with dark clouds, but most worrisome of all was the pair of malicious eyes, glowing bright in the darkness.

“Get away from me!” Mchara screamed, thinking the assailant circling the pit was an animal, even though their gut told them otherwise.

Their demand was met with laughter, clear and bubbly—it would have sounded friendly to Mchara in another time or place, but not now. “And have my hard work be for naught?” The singsong voice answered. “My brothers are waiting and I will not fail them.”

The last thing Mchara saw when the figure pounced was a man’s beautiful face and a set of sharp, pointed fangs.


End file.
